


In Suspense.

by BarPurple



Series: Sherlolly Against the World [22]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Clothing Kink, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, It's my birthday and I'll post smut if I want to, Kink Exploration, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-04 15:55:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5339864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarPurple/pseuds/BarPurple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly Hooper is trying to kill him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Suspense.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nana/gifts).



Sherlock’s smile fell slightly as he glanced at Molly’s legs. He’d been smiling because she was wearing her chocolate coloured suede skirt; a piece of clothing he was extraordinary fond of. The smile faltered when he saw the opaque black nylon covering her legs rather than the normal bright knee high socks. It made perfect sense for Molly to be wearing tights, the day was cold and sharp, but he couldn’t help feel a little disappointed. He really liked knowing that under that sensible suede Molly’s thighs were bare. Technically she was bare under the tights, but it just wasn’t the same. 

Molly’s decision to wrap up was probably for the best. They were having dinner with John and Mary, so lust fuelled thoughts about what exploring under Molly’s skirt were not really appropriate.

 

“Sherlock? You alright there mate?”

Sherlock blinked at John’s voice and tried to recall the past few moments of conversation. He gently removed his hand from Molly’s thigh desperately and deliberately not thinking about what he had felt through her skirt.

“Yeah. Fine. Mind wandered a bit there.”

Sherlock refused to meet Mary’s eye. He could feel the curiosity pouring off Mrs Watson and didn’t want her to see the thoughts screaming in his mind at present. Molly saved him from interrogation, which was only fair since she was the cause of his distraction.

“We should be getting home, guys. I’ve got a full morgue to work through tomorrow.”

They thanked Mary for a wonderful meal and bid them goodnight. John waved them off and closed the front door before turning to his wife.

“Okay. Spill. What was going on there?”

Mary laughed.

“I think Sherlock finally deduced Molly’s plans for the rest of the evening.”

John closed his eyes and shook his head sharply.

“Nope. Don’t want to know. There any wine left?”

 

In the cab Sherlock’s hand strayed to Molly’s thigh, just as it had fifteen minutes ago under the Watson’s dining table. This time he let his reaction show a little. His deep voice was thick with desire as he sighed;

“Molly Hooper, are you trying to kill me?”

“I don’t know what you mean Sherlock.”

The mock innocence of her tone told a very different story from the actual words. Sherlock’s thumb strummed across her thigh as he lent into close to whisper in her ear.

“You are wearing stockings and a suspender belt, you little minx.”

She hummed in agreement and gave his hand a squeeze.

“Is that a problem Sherlock?”

He placed a quick kiss on the soft skin beneath her ear and turned his hand in hers so he could twine their fingers together. As he settled back into the seat of the cab he said;

“Just wait until I get you home.”

Molly walked up the stairs to the flat in front of him and Sherlock could just see the outline of the suspenders as her skirt tightened across the back of her thighs with each step she took. He was practically drooling at the very thought of pushing her skirt up and getting his first glimpse of stocking top lying next to soft skin.

At the top of the stairs Molly turned and looked back to find Sherlock only halfway up staring at her, his chest heaving with each breath. This was even better than she’d hoped.

“Coming?”

“At least twice I imagine.”

Molly chuckled as Sherlock rushed up the remaining stairs. She slipped through the door before he could ensnare her in his arms and savoured the little whimpering sound he made when denied of his prize. There was a delicious thrill in having power over Sherlock’s lust; all the effort and devotion he poured into to the cerebral was equal to the skill and enthusiasm with which he indulged the physical. His unchained libido was one hell of a wild ride built just for two. 

She kept her back to him as she shrugged out of her coat. A coy glance over her shoulder allowed her to watch him pull his Belstaff from his shoulders with undignified haste. The great coat was slung haphazardly towards the coat rack and yet somehow managed to snag on a hook. Only Sherlock could pull off something like that.

He stood tauter than his violin bow as she settled herself into his chair and slid down so her legs were stretched in front of her. Molly ran a hand down her thigh and teased the hem of her skirt. A sly smile and a bat of her eyelashes was all it took to snap Sherlock’s control. He sprang across the room and landed heavily on his knees at her feet. 

Molly sighed as his hands caressed her calf and slowly raised her foot up to his chest. He slid her ballet pump from her foot and threw it over his shoulder. It landed in John’s chair with a thump, but Molly barely noticed the sound as Sherlock’s clever thumbs rubbed along the arch of her foot.

“You could have asked me for this any time, you know?”

Sherlock’s eyes were full of wonder as her looked up at her.

“I didn’t know that this was something I wanted.”

Molly wiggled her toes and smiled.

“Then you best take your time and fully explore everything you want.”

Sherlock groaned and lifted her foot to his mouth. Molly gasped as he sucked her stocking clad toes into his mouth; this was new. A part of her mind cringed at the idea of her sweaty toes in his mouth; the rest of her revealed in the sensation of his hot mouth and the growing dampness of the nylon as he suckled. 

Her foot looked tiny cradled in his large, long fingered hands as he moved his mouth from her toes and dragged wet kisses along her instep. Molly’s eyes fluttered closed as Sherlock’s teeth grazed her ankle bone. She blindly kicked her other foot free of its shoe and rubbed her foot along his thigh. Her toes curled into the wiry muscle and crept higher. Sherlock broke off from kissing her calf and his breath coming in harsh pants and gasps as he watched her nylon wrapped toes inch up his leg towards his groin. He shamelessly rutted against the sole of her foot as it rested over his throbbing cock. The pressure offered no relief and only served to add fuel to the fire burning in his veins.

Molly’s skirt had ridden halfway up her thighs, offering a tantalising glimpse of stocking top. Sherlock ran a hand up each leg, his lust blown eyes never leaving hem of the suede barrier between him and that teasing suspender belt. Molly’s own hands held her skirt firmly against her legs as she moved her foot from his crotch to his chest. She gently pushed him back on to his heels and shook her head. She had to smile at the crestfallen look on her lover’s face.

“Take your shirt off first.”

She licked her lips as Sherlock made quick work of his cuff buttons. Her foot trailed down his chest and rolled against the bulge in his trousers. Sherlock groaned and gave up on undoing his buttons; he grabbed the neck of his shirt and hauled the whole thing off over his head. 

Molly purred in appreciation, there was something incredibly masculine about the way Sherlock’s torso curled inward as his head dipped to tugged the shirt from his back. She walked her toes up his bare chest savouring the little noises of pleasure that escaped his Cupid’s bow lips. She moved her hands from her thighs and gripped the arms of the chair. Sherlock took the movement as the invitation it was and tenderly gripped her ankles. She could feel the tremble in his hands as he opened her legs and slid forward between them. His hands trailed up over her calves; his thumbs rubbed small circles on the inside of her knees and started shudders in Molly’s own muscles.

Sherlock dragged a deep breath into his lungs and pushed his hands up over Molly’s thighs bunching the suede fabric up towards her waist.

“Oh Molly. My wicked, wicked Molly.”

His voice became muffled as he bent his head and worshiped her soft, milky flesh with his lips. The slight scratchy feeling of the stocking top intensified the soft, supple sensation of Molly’s flesh. The air was heavy with the sounds of pleasure; the high notes of Molly’s gasps and sighs melding with the low moans and growls from Sherlock as he kissed, licked and nibbled at her thighs. 

He edged ever higher, closer to the scent of her arousal. A puzzled look creased his brow. The straps of the suspenders disappeared under the hems of Molly’s knicker legs. She smiled at him and caught her thumbs in the waist of the smooth black fabric.

“I put the knickers on over the top. Guessed you wouldn’t want me to take the sussie belt off.”

“You are a bloody genius Molly Hooper.”

Sherlock surged forward and dipped his fingers under the elastic at her waist. Molly giggled as Sherlock all but ripped her knickers from her body. Sherlock’s tongue darted out to wet his lips as he beheld the wanton sight of Molly’s sex framed by the straps of the suspender belt. He leant in close to her blocking the wondrous vision with his body as he slipped the buttons of her blouse free. Molly sat up and shrugged free of her blouse. Sherlock captured her mouth with his and lost himself in the heavenly pleasure of kissing his lover. No matter how many times he kissed his pathologist, Sherlock knew he would never tired of it; Molly had become the one addiction he would never give up, she was more intoxicating the cocaine; more fulfilling than puzzles. He’d not found the words to tell her that yet, but he poured the deepest feelings of his heart into every touch and hoped she understood.

Sherlock buried one hand in her hair and snaked the other round her body, pulling her into him. Nimble fingers found the hooks of her bra and flicking them open in one swift movement. Sherlock refused to yield her lips, but moved his body away enough to allow him to slide the bra from her body. Free of the garment Molly wound her arms around his neck and crushed them back together, bare breast to naked chest. 

Her legs crossed behind him and his cock, so long ignored, rubbed against her bare core. Sherlock bit down on her shoulder as the torturous sensation of moist friction almost overwhelmed him. Molly’s small, but strong hands pushed at his chest forcing him back from her.

“Trousers.”

It took a second for him to understand her, but once realisation dawned he rose to his feet in a flash and began toeing off his shoes and socks and cursing the necessity of trouser buttons. Molly stood up in the space he had left and wriggled out of her skirt. The vision of beauty before him stopped Sherlock in his tracks, his trousers and boxers halfway down his thighs, his cock twitching urgently. 

Just an arm’s reach away was Molly, his Molly, for his eyes alone wearing only a simple black suspender belt and thick black stockings. Sherlock didn’t believe in God, or fortune or fate; the only being he could praise for allowing this delight into his life was slowly turning around and bending over his chair. His goddess, his saviour, his Molly was going to kill him with pleasure and Sherlock had never being so willing to shake hands with Death.

He stared hungrily at her luscious plump arse framed by the tight, solid straps. He stepped out of his remaining clothes and towards heaven. Tentatively he reached out and cupped her bum in his hands; she rolled back into his touch, humming in divine satisfaction. Emboldened he ran his hands over the curve of her arse and on to the small of her back. The greatest violin makers in the world would have killed to have her as a model for their instruments, her curves lyrical in their perfection. 

Molly spread her legs a little wider, wiggling her bum as she did so. Sherlock’s hands grasped her waist to steady himself as his mind whirled and span, committing each movement to a brand new room in his mind palace.

“Sherlock. Take me like this. Fuck me.”

Her wanton demand made his mind blank out. This was new, not her demand, but this position. They’d always made love face to face, but before Sherlock’s doubts could be voiced Molly thrust her hips back and underscored her desire with;

“Now Sherlock!”

Sherlock groaned his acquiescence and surprised himself by sheathing himself inside her without any guidance from his hands. He’d not touched her there, but her sex was dripping honey sweet around his cock. He gripped her hips tight and held her still as he withdrew, just the head of his dick left inside her; the visual was intoxicating; the swell of her arse, the sussie belt and his hot, throbbing cock poised to fuck her senseless. 

“Please Sherlock.”

His eyes roved up the length of her back and found her looking over her shoulder at him. Something animalistic roared free inside him; his hips thrust forward as his hands pulled her hips towards him. Molly screamed in bliss as he impaled her. The sound spurred him to pound into her again and again; harder and harder. She matched him thrust for thrust her fingers digging into the leather of the chair back as she braced herself against the passionate onslaught. Sherlock’s hand twisted into her hair and tugged her head back as he curled over her to plant savage kisses on her neck. The added sensation tipped her into orgasm and she screamed his name as her muscles squeezed and quivered around his length.

He didn’t slow or falter, in fact it was possible he fucked into her even harder. Molly couldn’t be sure as every nerve in her body overloaded with pleasure. Everywhere Sherlock was touching her was on fire, everywhere he wasn’t felt like ice. On the perfect knife edge between too much and not enough Sherlock drove himself deep inside her and they came together.

She wondered if she’d passed out, or just been flying to high on endorphins to notice that Sherlock had eased her to the floor and tuck a pillow under her head. He was leaning over her, his head propped on one hand, his body pressed into her side, his fingers playing with a suspender strap. He smiled at her, one of his real, special, tender, only for her smiles.

“When I can feel my legs again, I’ll get us something to drink.”

“Sounds good.”

She stretched with a sigh and a slight wince. Sherlock tensed and concern tinged his voice.

“Did I hurt you?”

“Not in a bad way. I’ll be sore tomorrow, but it’ll be the satisfied, smug kind of sore.”

Sherlock grinned and got to his feet. There was a slight wobble in his gait as he wandered into the kitchen and that just added another notch to Molly’s smugness. The delightful view of his bare arse made her sigh in satisfaction.

He returned with two glasses of orange juice. Molly sat up and took the offered glass with a wry smile.

“Refuelling me for round two?”

Sherlock took a swig of his juice and gave her a leering wink.

“Is that a problem, Molly?”

“Oh hell no.”

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a comment nana left on Hues of Lust  
> "Would love to see his reaction to a garter set"  
> Pretty sure this covers it in detail ;)


End file.
